


A Thousand Tiny Lightning Strikes

by TUNiU



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 4004 bc, Brain Manipulation, M/M, Rain, Sex, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-10 04:10:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19899625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TUNiU/pseuds/TUNiU
Summary: A few days after Adam and Eve are expelled from the Garden of Eden, Aziraphale worries that making more humans hurts Eve more than it's worth. Crawly shows him otherwise.





	A Thousand Tiny Lightning Strikes

It was a rainy day. All the days since the humans' expulsion from Eden had been rainy. There had been rather more than 40 of them so far, and the rain showed no sign of stopping. Aziraphale, Angel of the Eastern Gate sighed damply. Both he and his demonic counterpart Crawly were soaked, but he felt it was still his duty to watch over the three humans, though he was truly only the guardian of the eastern gate of Eden, and none of them were in Eden anymore. Likewise Crawly felt it his duty to thwart any kindness Aziraphale meted upon the humans, though his heart wasn't truly in it.

The dry yellow ground soaked up the rain as fast as it came, so the humans were in no danger of drowning, like they would be in a thousand years, but Aziraphale still miracled up a spacious cave for Adam and Eve and their baby son Cain to keep dry. In response, Crawly miracled a small drip at the back of the cave to annoy them with the plinking sound of water on stone. The fact that it gave them a source of drinking water while also allowing them to stay dry was an unforeseen coincidence.

"They're at it again, you know?" Crawly stated, staring occultly through rain, and dirt, and rock, to the humans safely nestled.

"It" was of course, what led to Eve being pregnant in the first place.

"So soon?" Aziraphale stuttered. "She just gave birth," he wailed. "It must hurt terribly."

"I don't think it matters to him right now."

"Oh, really," he huffed and turned his back to the general scene, though he hadn't been peeping to begin with. The angel's curiosity got the better of him, and he asked quietly, "really?"

Crawly nodded, his sodden hair wapping his wings. "His brain is awash in sparkles, they're both just lighting up, like...what are those things, gonna be around in 6000 years, all pine with a star on top?"

"What?" Aziraphale mentally reviewed what he'd been shown of the future of the Humanity project. "Christmas trees, I think they're called?"

"Right, those."

"Are you sure he's not hurting her?" the angel asked wringing his hands. "She screamed so loud during the birth, and there was all that blood. The whole process hurt her so badly." Aziraphale was supposed to guard the humans from outside dangers not from each other. But if he had to smite Adam for hurting Eve, then how would anymore humans arrive?

"I suppose," Crawly turned to the angel, "I suppose it must feel extraordinarily good, to make up for all that later pain. Of course, it's a funny way to go about it, all in and out."

"What do you mean?"

Crawly looked Aziraphale from the crown of his wings to the tips of his toes. He smiled. "Well, if I wanted to make you sparkle I wouldn't do it by going up your backside, I'd just," he waggled his fingers near his ear. "Direct interface."

Aziraphale felt himself blush so hot, he was sure the rain steamed off his face. "Just?" he waggled his fingers in mimicry.

Crawly nodded.

To distract himself from the unholy thoughts Crawly caused in him, Aziraphale turned his attention to the humans. He still had his back to their general direction, but that was no impediment the thousands of his eyes in his true form. He looked upon them in amazement and no small amount of embarrassment.

There was so much fluid involved. It really didn't seem sanitary what she was doing to him. All those little devils in the dirt would be getting all inside them now, hurting them on a microscopic level. No, Crawly was right, direct interface was much more sanitary.

"Do you really think it feels good?"

"It must do, otherwise they wouldn't bother."

"He is much stronger than her."

"You can't be suggesting..." the demon's eyes widened in metaphor.

"Well, I don't know. There is an awful lot of moaning going on."

There was silence for a time, broken only by the rhythmic sound of rain on dirt, and hair and wing. "I think it's quite nice of you, to want to save her."

"Thank you."

"But she won't thank you if she is actually enjoying it, so why don't you give it a go?"

Aziraphale sputtered, swallowed some rain, coughed and finally squeaked out the word, "what?"

Crawly shrugged. "For your peace of mind, and all. I could," here he waggled his fingers again, "and you could judge for yourself, if it feels good."

Aziraphale stepped away from Crawly. "I couldn't," he turned back, "could I? Are you trying to tempt me?"

"Is it working?"

"Really." he huffed and stalked away. This would be the farthest he'd travelled away from Crawly since the rain began. They had spent all their time just standing, tirelessly, watching the humans. This early in humanity, there hadn't been anything else to do. Aziraphale was so looking forward to the day humanity discovered the aliens living in space.

Crawly chased after him. They were both walking, because the rain prevented them flying. "I'm not trying to tempt you, I'm just, giving you an option. Your choice. How else will you know?"

Aziraphale dithered. Time passed. Rain fell.

"Okay," he finally said some days later. "But just to be sure. I am not giving into your wily temptations."

Crawly smiled.

* * *

They miracled a small cave from the sand and sat down on the ground. Up close, Aziraphale could make out all the gorgeous freckles on Crawly's face.

Crawly noticed the staring. "What?"

"You've very pretty."

"Thank you. I like looking at you too. How do you want to begin?" the demon asked.

"Well, they usually start with some petting and kissing," the angel suggested.

Crawly made a face similar to that of a man who has tasted a moth ball. "Eugh. Fluid transfer?"

"Yes, very gross," Aziraphale agreed. "We could just," he waggled his fingers along Crawly's temple near his snake mark.

Crawly put his fingers on either side of Aziraphale's face. He pushed his essence into the angel's human brain, trailing along neurons and dendrites and axons. He followed the electrochemical signals until he got to the correct synapses and flooded them with stimulation.

The angel moaned and twitched under his hands. His hands snapped up and grabbed Crawly by the wrists.

Crawly watched Aziraphale's brain light up, all the tissues and nerves. All the bits and bobs that scientists would name thousands of years from now. They glowed with tiny lightning strikes. Aziraphale screamed happily and sent Crawly sprawling to the ground. Crawly felt questing tendrils enter his own brain as Aziraphale copied his actions.

Tingles.

Blue.

Falling.

Pumpkin pie.

Crawly's human brain couldn't map the sensations to its perception of his body. It was just good. He screamed. It was pain but not hurt. Or maybe hurt but not pain. His skin itched and he needed to scratch his muscles. He needed to shed his body, meld with the angel forever. He knew his human arms were wrapped around Aziraphale's back, he reveled in the heft of the angel's body weighing him down.

Soft.

Warm.

Wine.

Flight.

Crawly could quite happily spend eternity just like this. It felt like home, before he fell. Love. Happy. A thousand tiny lightning strikes blasted across their neurons building up strength. They needed no water, no food. Their muscles felt no fatigue. They were just an angel and a demon poking each others brains for the sheer pleasure of it.

A lightning strike at their feet blasted them apart. They skidded several feet before stopping at the walls of their cave. They lay there smoking for several moments.

The angel was the first to recover. "Oh hell, the humans!"

Crawly turned his wobbly attention to their humans far away in their cave. "Relax, all four are fine."

Aziraphale gasped. "Four!? There were only three last time I looked."

Crawly counted again. "Nope, four."

The angel gathered up his sandy robes and shook out his wings. "We were doing this for...for..." he stood on shaking legs.

"Eh, about a year looks like."

"Oh no. This was a terrible idea."

"It felt good didn't it?" Crawly asked. He sat up against the rock. "Now you know."

"Yes, but. We must never do this again."

"What never?"

"Look at how much time we lost."

"It's only a year, it's not like anything important is happening."

Aziraphale gasped brokenly. He stared for a moment at Crawly and stalked out of their cave. By the time Crawly made his own way out, he could not find the angel anywhere.

"Fine, run away!" he shouted to the desolate sands. "I'm not even going to miss you!"

* * *

That was a lie. It would be several hundred years until Crawly saw Aziraphale again, and he missed him everyday.


End file.
